Halloween Decorating
by pisces317
Summary: House helps decorate PPTH for Halloween. Fluff, spiders, and sick!wilson ensues


**Title:**Halloween Decorating

**Summary:**House helps decorate PPTH for Halloween. Fluff, spiders, and sick!wilson ensues

**Rating:**PG-13 for teensy bit of adult language**  
>Spoiler:<strong>None up to season 7

**Disclaimer:**Not mine, just borrowing and playing with.

**AN:**I decided to simply ignore the second half of season 7. So House and Cuddy are broken up but instead of being more reckless than he was, Wilson manages to reach through to House and soon after they start a relationship. Cuddy gets back together with Lucas (because I like them as a couple) and all are relative friends.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing?" James Wilson demanded almost angrily as he stood at the base of the ladder that House just happened to be perched on top of. The diagnostician looked down at his partner like he was insane for asking, a smile lighting his eyes when he saw Wilson standing in full "superman pose" complete with a look that while not charming, could definitely give the character a run for his money.<p>

"I'm putting up Halloween decorations, what does it look like?"

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're standing on a tall ladder, balancing precariously on one leg while trying to hang Cuddy's underwear to the rope of Halloween decorations."

"Exactly!"

"House," Wilson began with a heavy sigh and the older man could just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Scary as the sight of Cuddy's underwear might be to some folk, _you_are the last person who should be on a ladder."

"Well I asked maintenance but they said no."

"Get down from there and I'll do it."

House started, surprised that Wilson was willing to tarnish his saintly name for the sake of House's health. He narrowed his cerulean eyes to slits, studying his friend and lover for a moment before acquiescing to the demand. When Wilson held out his hand for the panties, House shook his head. "Nuh-uh. Get up the ladder _then_I will hand them to you."

Now it was Wilson's turn to start in surprise but it only lasted for a millisecond before he shook his head resignedly, heaved a heavy sigh and proceeded to climb the ladder. House sneakily handed Wilson the underwear, casting wary glances around the people at them as though he expected to be caught any minute.

"I'll see you after operation "decorations" is finished," he whispered before scampering off in the direction of his office.

Wilson watched him go, patiently waiting for the older man to be out of sight before he slowly descended the ladder with Cuddy's underwear in hand. He shoved the item into his pocket, hoping no one asked about the bulge it made, then carefully folded the ladder and started heading to Cuddy's office. He only hoped that she wouldn't ask him to explain how House had managed to get a hold of her panties because he really didn't think he could.

* * *

><p>Gregory House sat in his glass-walled office, legs up on the desk and bouncing his Lacrosse ball against the wall conjoining the outer office with his. His thoughts drifted from what color of thong Cuddy was wearing today to what he and Wilson would do tonight when they got home to, ever so slightly, his patient's illness. He wasn't all that worried about his patient – he already knew the diagnosis, he just wanted to see if the ducklings could figure it out in due time or if he would actually have to help them.<p>

The hydraulics on his door sounded, indicating someone entering his office but House barely paid them attention. Instead he chose to ask one question. "Finished already?"

"Yeah. It's amazing how quickly you can finish a blood test when the patient is unconscious," Chase chirped happily knowing full well _who_House thought he'd been.

House looked up from his ball tossing, managing to look almost disappointed at the sight of the Australian. "What are you doing here?"

"Wilson asked me to let you know that he was in his office if you needed him," Chase answered, his voice pitching briefly and almost cheerily on Wilson's name before settling back into his baritone tones. The hidden happy glint in his eyes came to the foreground when House's head snapped up in alertness and concern. They both knew it wasn't like Wilson to send someone to talk to House but only one of them knew why it had been done.

House nodded, not seeing a reason to actually respond. Something was going on with Wilson but he wasn't about to give Chase the satisfaction of seeing him curious – and to be perfectly honest concerned as well – about what it was. Only once the blonde had left did he tip his chair back and try to sneak a peek at his friend and lover through the balcony doors.

At first nothing seemed out of the usual. Wilson was sitting behind his desk, seemingly talking to someone on the speakerphone. House supposed that the speakerphone conversation alone should have been unusual – Wilson never talks on the speakerphone lest someone (House) should hear him. Then he focused in on how little the oncologist was moving and when he did move, they were the stiff motions of someone in pain. House knew that with Wilson on the phone, the younger man would never allow a hint of pain to come onto his features but he saw the eye twitches that wrinkled the corners of his eyes in pain. Not many would know what to look for but knowing Wilson as long as he did, House knew everything and he was not liking what he saw.

When Wilson turned his head to the left, allowing House a view of the rights side of his face, House felt the air go out of his lungs. A bruise the size of Cuddy's ass covered the normally attractive features, stretching from just above Wilson's eyebrow down to just below his cheek. The right eye was blood shot and bruised, making the oncologist look closer to a zombie than any horror movie he had ever seen.

Almost instantly, House found himself flying out of his chair, deftly avoiding the sly looks Chase and Foreman were giving him as he left, and headed straight for Wilson's office – the back way. He hopped over the balcony, his actions swift from many years' practice, and limped straight up to the glass door. His eyes never left the sight of Wilson's body and the closer he got, the easier it was for him to see just how badly hurt his lover was.

Wilson's left arm was in a sling that blended smoothly in with his suit jacket which hung over his shoulders. A tan bandage peeked out from the black sling, hugging Wilson's wrist snugly. From the angle Wilson's entire body was in, it appeared as though he had injured his leg somehow resulting in needing to keep it elevated but he wasn't sure how yet since he couldn't see the leg from his viewpoint.

"What happened to you?" House demanded as he stormed into Wilson's office, not caring one bit if the person on the phone heard or not.

Wilson sighed and painfully reached across his body with his right arm to pick up the phone. "Carl, I'm going to have to call you back. A patient just walked in." It was a lie and an obvious one at that but it was kind of hard to explain to the director of a drug trial that your friend and boyfriend just discovered you were injured, especially when you wanted to get more than a few patients into said drug trial.

"What the hell happened to you?" House asked again, barely giving Wilson time to hang up the phone before he asked again.

"I fell down the stairs, House. I'm fine. Now lower your voice or get out," Wilson answered with resignation and a small hint of anger in his tone. Oh how he wished he could pinch the bridge of his nose! His head was pounding horridly and House's yelling wasn't helping. As it was, the action would hurt too much to do so he settled for stiffly leaning back in his chair, grimacing no small amount, and closing his eyes.

"If that's fine, I'd hate to see bad," House snarked immediately, his mouth working almost as fast as his brain. Something akin to hurt crossed Wilson's face but it was hidden so well beneath pain and exhaustion that if House hadn't known Wilson as long as he has, he wouldn't have seen it at all.

He stepped around Wilson's desk, careful not to bump or injure the oncologist and grabbing a spare chair to sit in then set about discovering Wilson's true injuries for himself. There were times when gruff treatment of a patient was necessary but this was no ordinary patient, it was Wilson and there was no need for him to be rough. His touch was nothing more than a ghost of a touch as he ran his hands up Wilson's elevated leg, starting at the thin ankle and working his way up.

"You know, you could just _ask_me," Wilson commented as House's hands moved up his calf. He hadn't really expected anything less than a physical examination – after all, asking the injuries would almost be like asking if he was okay – but it would have made a nice change.

"Sh, concentrating," House responded, hiding a frown when his hands engulfed a swollen knee. The swelling was minimal at most but it was still there. "Twisted knee?"

"Bruised patella," Wilson answered. The sound of papers fluttering around filled his office as he began sorting through patients that would be good for the drug trial.

House nodded that he heard but continued the examination. It was hard not to become aroused as his hands trailed up Wilson's well defined thigh but he kept his hormones in check. Wilson hissed when he touched the groin muscle and his body reflexively jerked away from the painful touch. He didn't bother asking about thing injury since it's obvious that he pulled the groin muscle – a very painful injury but relatively minor – and moves on to his friend's torso.

Abdominal muscles softening with age rippled under his touch with anticipating shivers. He ignored them in favor of checking each one of Wilson's ribs for signs of bruising, cracks, or breaks. While one hand moved up the front, the other checked the back, simultaneously moving up towards Wilson's neck. The oncologist gasped when he hit the fourth, fifth and sixth ribs on the right side and House gently pulled up his shirts to take a closer look. Deep, angry bruising almost purple enough to match Wilson's eye covered the upper portion of Wilson's side, spreading pinwheel tendrils of color along his back and joining with a particularly nasty looking bruise residing over his shoulder blade.

House got out of the chair and moved to Wilson's right, gently grabbing his forearm and rotating the shoulder. Wilson once again gasped then groaned, doing his best to take his arm out of the diagnostician's grasp so he could rest it against his torso once again. House released his hold on the arm then moved back over to Wilson's left so he could inspect the damage done to the slinged limb. He leaves the bandaged wrist alone, already able to see that it's been sprained, and moves to the shoulder. If there was anything wrong with the arm itself, there would be a bandage around it as well so he doesn't bother checking it. He winces when he feels how taut the muscles in the joint are and stops touching it immediately when Wilson hisses at the merest pressure.

"Pulled muscle?" he asked though he doubted it given the amount of pain.

"Sprain," Wilson answered. His voice was lower than normal from the pain that still radiated down his arm, giving one the supposition that he was angry. Silently he waited for the discomfort to calm all the while listening to the sounds of his friend moving about his office. He looked up in startled surprise when he heard the balcony door swish; he was just in time to see House's retreating back as the diagnostician walked into his office, limp around it and the connecting conference room then come back carrying what looked to be an ice pack in every single pocketed space he owned.

He didn't speak a word as he activated each pack then placed one over Wilson's various injuries, somehow managing to get one to stick to his side as well. Wilson jumped every time the cold touched his skin but he recognized this as House trying to apologize for causing him pain and so allowed him to fuss, even if it was just a little bit.

"Falling down the stairs doesn't explain your eye," House commented almost absently as he sat down in a chair across from Wilson's desk. Normally he would have opted for sitting on the couch but the angle in which he'd have to place his neck would be awkward and he just didn't feel like trying today.

"It does if the reason you fell down the stairs in the first place was because the door opened from the other side and hit your eye with the doorknob," Wilson countered, relaxing against his chair and returning the eye contact with ease.

House didn't have a counter argument so he let the subject slide, nodding his head towards Wilson's face. "Any damage?"

"No, thankfully, just hurts." Wilson breathed a sigh of relief. Not that having the doorknob hit his eyes wasn't extremely painful, but he really didn't want to know what it would have felt like to have an abrasion or worse – he had enough injuries without having to add blindness.

House nodded. "You hungry?"

Wilson tilted his head to the side. "I could eat, yeah."

"You can always eat," House scoffed. "The question was, are you hungry? There's a new red head in the cafeteria who we haven't managed to disgust yet."

"House, as much as I like getting a rise out of every one of my coworkers, I'm not sure I have the energy to make it down to the cafeteria."

"Fair enough," House answered just as Wilson's door opened admitting Chase carrying a tray filled to its limit with food. The Australian set the tray down on Wilson's desk, giving each of them a curious eyebrow raise before turning around and exiting.

Hurting and too tired to care, Wilson let his question of why House tried to get him to go to the cafeteria slide. It really wasn't important at the moment. They both ate in silence; one man barely hungry enough to warrant putting food in and the other trying to figure out how to get the other man home without it looking like he cared.

He was saved the trouble of doing anything by the appearance of Dr. Lisa Cuddy who stormed in holding a pair of very familiar looking panties in her hand. "How in the hell did you get a hold of these and how did you manage to put them up without anyone seeing you?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," House replied sounding innocent though he was far from it.

"This isn't magic, it's theft," she countered automatically.

"Oh, I don't know. It was pretty magical to me. Don't you think so Wilson?"

Wilson raised his right hand in a "don't blame me" way then grimaced when his bruised scapula reminded him not to do that any time soon. "Don't look at me, I had nothing to do with it," he said when Cuddy turned her furious gaze on him.

"Sure you did!" House replied before Cuddy could say a word. "If you had put up the first pair, I wouldn't have had to do the second one."

"How did you-"

"Oh please. Like James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist is going to tarnish his saint-like stature just for a pair of Cuddy's underwear." The scoff in House's voice was evident in every syllable he uttered, punctuated more only by the eye roll he gave after his explanation. "Thankfully I have a wombat who's willing to do whatever I bid him do. We gotta make sure this place is all nice and decorated for the deep pockets tomorrow, don't we?"

"Well as decorative as my bright red _thongs_are, I think we should leave them for other holidays, don't you?" Cuddy sniped, adding more emphasis to the word 'thongs'. She waited a beat before she continued. "Now how did you get these in the first place?" House's amused smirk grew to a broad smile, telling her all she needed to know. Gray eyes of adamantium shut to angry slits as she growled out one word, "Lucas." Without further thought she stormed out of the office, leaving a chuckling House and a confused Wilson in her wake.

* * *

><p>Later that night, House and Wilson crawled into bed after a long day. House had finally gotten comfortable and was almost asleep when Wilson started squirming next to him.<p>

"What's the matter with you now?" he grumbled, irritated that he wasn't being allowed to fall into a drug-induced sleep.

"There's something crawling up my leg," Wilson replied managing to sound both annoyed and nervous.

"And you think wriggling around will get it off?" House quipped dryly. "If it's a scorpion, wake me up when it stings you. If it's a spider, wake me up when it bites you. If it's something else, wake me up when it hurts you. Otherwise, stop moving and let me sleep."

"House!" Wilson admonished and whined in one. "Just peel back the covers and get it off."

If ever a long-suffering sigh was heard, House had just released one that would have topped it easily. None the less, he did as he was bid and turned on the lights then pulled off the blankets and sheets to get a look at what was "crawling" over Wilson.

One of the biggest tarantula's House had ever seen was slowly making its way up Wilson's right leg. The thing wasn't cute by any means but House found that he actually had no desire to kill it. Carefully as he could, the diagnostician crawled out of bed and began looking for something to trap the spider with.

"House?" Wilson called, becoming more frightened the closer the spider came to his genitals and torso.

"Just relax, I'm not leaving you," House answered, finally locating an empty glass and a piece of paper. They weren't the most ideal objects but they would do for now.

"So, how long are you going to let Cuddy believe that Lucas gave you the underwear before you tell her that you kept a couple pairs when she left?" Wilson asked from out of the blue, surprising the diagnostician.

"That's what you want to talk about?" House inquired with a disbelieving eyebrow raise.

"Look, I'm just trying not to freak out here. Humor me."

"Oh, I don't know – a month, or six."

Wilson chuckled in spite of the spider. "That's not very nice you know."

"How'd you figure it out?" House asked as he gently scooped the tarantula into the cup, trapping it with paper. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of the spider's legs against the paper but he held it in, not wanting to show it to Wilson who was probably more scared than he was.

"I recognized the second pair that Cuddy brought into my office. I'd seen it before in your drawers when I was looking for some socks."

"You mean when you were snooping," House countered not at all angry that Wilson had been rifling through his things.

"Potato, Potahto," Wilson answered off handedly, waving his hand dismissively through the air. Now that there wasn't a huge, scary looking spider crawling on his leg, he was much more relaxed and able to brush things off again.

House smiled. "Hang around me long enough, I'll have you riding a motorcycle and popping pills in no time."

"Doubt it," Wilson answered, holding out his arm for House to cuddle with him. The move cost him though and he grimaced when it pulled on his sore shoulder. Unable to resist a needy Wilson, House complied and snuggled against his friend, only giving an eye roll to express his dislike before he moved. Wilson rubbed his head against House's balding head, whispering, "Thanks for getting the spider."

"It was in my territory. I had to get him off."

Wilson chuckled deep in his throat but stopped when the tone in House's voice registered in his mind. "'He'? You're going to keep the dang thing aren't you?"

"Yep! I think I'll call him Cuddy."

"Cuddy? But Cuddy's a woman."

"I know. But no man _I_know of has that big of an ass."

Wilson chuckled once again. "Good night House."

"Night Wilson. Night Cuddy!"

_~fin~_


End file.
